


Tell Me What You Want Right Now

by FutureLikeJicasso



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Grinding, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, also they swear a lot, genuinely this is just minsung making out and nothing else, minsungbingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23209090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FutureLikeJicasso/pseuds/FutureLikeJicasso
Summary: A lot may have been left unsaid in Jisung and Minho’s friendship over the years, but they’ve always been honest about what mattered, and that’s what’s kept them together for so long, even when life has put distance between them. It’ll be no different even when Minho moves away, surely - makes the heart grow fonder and all that jazz.As Minho takes a trip down memory lane while packing, something Jisung really, really needs to keep unsaid is just how attractive Minho looks in his old school uniform.He may or may not succeed.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 30
Kudos: 483
Collections: MINSUNG BINGO: Round One





	Tell Me What You Want Right Now

**Author's Note:**

> back with another fill for the @minsungbingo twitter event because my minsung mode is ACTIVATED
> 
> this absolute disgrace is hitting the **AU - Neighbours, Friends to Lovers** and **Uniforms** prompts on my bingo card~♥
> 
> title is from BTS - War of Hormone because this fic got uhhhhhhh

Jisung checked his phone.

He checked it again.

He paced around his bedroom, rearranged the books on the shelves, checked his phone again, organised his desktop icons, hung up the posters that had fallen off the walls, kicked some laundry under his bed, immediately felt bad and pulled the laundry back out from under the bed to throw it in the hamper where it belonged.

He checked his phone again.

Still nothing, and Jisung flopped back onto his bed with a heavy sigh. Okay, so maybe he was a little impatient, but he couldn’t  _ help _ it. Not when he was waiting for a message from Minho to let him know when he could come over.

  
  


Jisung had seen Minho yesterday. He’d seen him the day before, too, and the day before that. Being best friends and next door neighbours since they were little kids tended to facilitate that sort of thing. Still, Jisung couldn’t take even a second of time spent with Minho for granted, especially not now. Not since next time Jisung came home to visit from university, Minho wouldn’t be there anymore.

Now that Minho was moving away.

Minho was two years older than Jisung, so he was used to Minho having to move on to the next stage of life without him. Middle school, high school, college, it had been difficult, but they’d always made time for each other on the weekends, or during vacation time. Because no matter where their current stage of education needed them to be, their homes were right next to each other and eventually, even if they were separated for months at a time, Minho and Jisung would always come home.

Except Minho had just graduated from university, and would soon be moving into an apartment in the big city with some of his college friends.

He’d visit, sure, but Minho would no longer be  _ home _ .

Jisung had to treasure every last minute, and every second that passed while waiting for a message to come physically pained him. Another second, another tick of the clock that he  _ could _ be spending with Minho.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

_ Click _

A lock, from somewhere outside. Jisung sat up with a start, and hurried over to his bedroom window to check if he heard what he thought he’d heard. Sure enough, Minho’s mother walked out of the front door, car keys in hand.

Minho had been helping his mother with something today, and now she was going out...so Minho had to be done, right?

Shoving his phone into his pocket and calling out to his own parents as he ran, almost falling down the stairs in his haste, Jisung made it to Minho’s front yard before Minho’s mother had even locked the door behind herself.

“Oh, Jisung~!” She smiled at him kindly, gesturing to the door, “Minho’s upstairs. Don’t worry about the door - I’ll handle it.”

“Thank you~” he gave her his best winning smile, and passed her to let himself into Minho’s house. It was weird, Jisung thought as he took off his shoes, even seeing the shoe racks without several of Minho’s favourite pairs sitting there. They were already packed away along with so many other things, so many good memories, waiting to move to the city with him.

  
  


_ What happens when I graduate?  _ Jisung had mumbled nervously when Minho first described the apartment to him, after all the paperwork had been signed and finalised. It was only a tiny apartment, and there were several boys from Minho’s performing arts major all moving into it together to maximise their proximity to the industry while minimising rent costs. Depending on how the rock-paper-scissors games worked out, Minho would be sharing a bedroom with at  _ least  _ two or three other people.  _ Doesn’t sound like there’s much room for me to squeeze in, too. _

_ Well, by that point, I’ll hopefully have a somewhat-decent job. Hopefully.  _ Had been Minho’s chuckled response. _ And your degree will be way more useful than mine, so I was thinking we’d find our own place, yeah? Just the two of us? If you still like me by then, I mean. _

_ Of course I’ll still like you, hyung. I’ve always liked you. _ Jisung had been painfully earnest, then. He always was when it came to Minho - the older boy would always just laugh when he said things like that, anyway, and ruffle Jisung’s hair or pull him close for a hug.  _ I’ll always like you. _

_ Well, that’s a relief. Since I’ll always like you, too. _

  
  


Open closets, fabric bundles and scattered boxes littered the upstairs of Minho’s house, the older boy clearly in the middle of packing for his big move. Jisung had to wonder, especially with so many roommates, how much stuff Minho really needed to bring with him - how much he even  _ could _ take with him, considering how squashed it was going to be in there.

Well, Jisung was going to have to work even harder than ever to graduate with a good degree, so he and Minho could move into a nicer apartment together once he was done. It was extremely motivating, honestly, and Jisung often found himself slipping into daydreams about living with Minho whenever his mind had time to wander. Nothing in particular, just day to day life in a home that was  _ theirs _ . Maybe they’d have a houseplant, and squabble over what to name it or when to water it. Maybe they’d leave each other silly messages with the fridge magnets. It was thoughts like that which gave Jisung the kick he needed to focus on his essays, that little extra boost to deliver presentations with enough pep and enthusiasm to grab those higher grades.

Maybe it was weird, being so motivated by what were essentially domestic fantasies with his best friend, but whatever it took to keep Jisung going, he supposed.

Besides, he’d had... _ weirder _ thoughts about Minho before.

  
  


Minho’s bedroom door was open, just a little, and Jisung knocked on it lightly before pushing it open, not bothering to wait for a reply. Minho was always the type to close the door properly if he didn’t want to be disturbed, anyway.

“Hey~” he began, but whatever he intended to say next never quite made it out of his mouth as his mind immediately blanked.

Across the room, as expected, was Minho. Quickly turning around from his position by the mirror to face Jisung, he laughed nervously, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “Ah. Hey, ‘Sungie. Didn’t realise you’d be over so fast…”

Jisung swallowed hard, unable to stop himself from openly staring because he hadn’t been quite prepared to see Minho wearing what he recognised as the older boy’s school uniform.

  
  


Minho had attended a different high school to Jisung, in a different city. He’d lived with his aunt during term times to be closer to the school he wanted and its extremely well-regarded performing arts program. It had kinda sucked to be so far away from him, but they still talked all the time, and Minho always came home for the holidays. It prepared Jisung for the separation of college, too. It hadn’t been all bad, but long-distance was something they’d learned to deal with.

_ Long-distance relationship _ , as Changbin had called it. Not that Jisung and Minho’s relationship had been anything other than platonic in any sense, ever, and while Jisung had secretly daydreamed about that changing, he’d rather die than admit it. That, and he resented the very notion that Changbin - who had never even  _ met _ Minho - could somehow sense that, so he continued to aggressively deny it all the way through school and through college, too.

Minho’s fancy school, naturally, had a fancy uniform. Smarter than the run-of-the-mill uniform Jisung’s high school had, it was the kind of uniform where just from looking at it, you could tell what kind of school it belonged to.

Minho had notably avoided taking many photos of himself in it, save for the occasional goofy selfie which tended to focus more on his face, anyway. Jisung knew the colour scheme, but otherwise, he’d never seen Minho in his school uniform at all, and once the older boy had moved on to college and gleefully banished the uniform to a box in the attic, Jisung supposed he never would. It wasn’t something he thought about often, in fact, he’d totally forgotten about it.

Until it was right in front of his face, like it was now.

He was staring. He was so obviously staring. It was a  _ nice _ uniform, the clean lines of the blazer emphasising the broadness of Minho’s shoulders before darting in at the waist, at the small of his back. It was in that exact moment that Jisung understood the impact of careful construction, of quality fabrics in a piece of clothing as the tailoring showed off the length of Minho’s legs and the flecks of golden thread in the pattern of his necktie picked up a shine in the older boy’s eyes.

Minho was good looking, he always had been. Even as a muddy-faced and gap-toothed elementary schooler, Jisung had always been a little bit in awe of his best friend and how beautiful he was. Even in middle school when he got  _ that _ haircut. Even in the dance studio on their university campus in a damp t-shirt and his rattiest sweatpants, the ones with all the holes.

But right now? God damn, Minho was  _ gorgeous _ .

And Jisung, well-

Jisung was staring.

  
  


“Ahaha…” Minho’s quiet laughter didn’t quite bring Jisung out of his reverie, but it did at least tune him into reality, just a bit, as his gaze continued to wander over Minho in  _ that _ uniform. “Never expected to see me in this dweeby thing, huh? I found it in the back of the closet and thought I’d see if it still fitted.”

“Sure does.” Jisung’s mouth was dry. Oh, it sure as hell fitted. It fitted perfectly. And while Jisung had seen Minho in way, way less than this before, something about the way it  _ suggested _ Minho’s figure while also creating a sense of distance, a sense of the older boy being  _ way out of Jisung’s league _ , had something in Jisung’s stomach doing flips.

“There go my hopes of having grown at all since high school, I guess.” he hummed, fingertips tapping out a silent beat along his neck. Jisung couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Well, that question’s been answered, so I’ll be taking this off~”

“Ah- w-wait.” The words left Jisung’s mouth before he could think about them, only the aftertaste of his own embarrassment really bringing home the ridiculousness of what he’d just said.

Minho quirked a brow curiously, pausing for a moment. “Hm? What’s the hold up, Jisung? Unless you want to take it off  _ for _ me~” He grinned, shooting Jisung a cheeky wink.

Jisung almost choked, and the temperature in the room skyrocketed.

Minho was always a flirt, always liked to tease. It was just the way he was, and most of the time, Jisung would give back as good as he got. It was just another thing they did, a game they played, catching each other off guard and getting the other to blush, to look away. It never had to be  _ weird _ .

Not until Jisung made it weird. God dammit.

“... _ do _ you want to…?” Minho’s eyes on Jisung were wide, now, and as his cheeks began to burn, Jisung fumbled to find the right words. Any words, really. Any at all as Minho took a step towards him.

“I-” Jisung wasn’t a high schooler anymore, distantly admiring an attractive senior student from behind a locker or something. So why was he so flustered? Why was he acting like such a  _ moron? _ It was just Minho, looking good, like he did literally all the time. He had absolutely no reason to be reacting like this. “I. God. Fuck. I’m sorry. I-”

Minho had moved to push his bedroom door closed with a light  _ click _ , leaning back against it to observe Jisung quietly. Jisung only wished he could say something smart to diffuse the tension in the air, to make things less weird, but all he could do was watch Minho in return and at least try to focus on his face while he caught his breath, while he tried to force himself to calm down. 

Focusing on Minho’s face didn’t help, and Jisung only found himself noticing a distinct flush in the older boy’s cheeks, a quirk at the corner of his lips as something in his gaze...changed. “Hey,” Minho began, voice hushed, and Jisung was already hanging on to every word. “Come over here.”

Minho had raised his hand in a slight ‘come here’ gesture, and kept it there until Jisung was in front of him. Without breaking eye contact, Minho reached down to lightly take Jisung’s hands in his own, bringing them up to his necktie.

Jisung swallowed, but did nothing.

“Jisung,” Minho continued, fingertips circling lightly on the backs of Jisung’s hands. From where they rested on Minho’s chest, Jisung could feel the older boy’s heartbeat racing under his hands, his breaths unsteady, like he was fighting a battle within himself to keep his cool just like Jisung was. “Tell me I’m reading this right.”

Jisung parted his lips as if to speak, but no words came to him. Instead, he finally managed to tear his eyes away from Minho’s, and watched his own hands carefully take hold of Minho’s tie to loosen it, like he was on autopilot. “God,” he exhaled quietly after what may have been a few moments, but could have been years, “you’re so hot.”

Minho laughed, then, but under Jisung’s touch he could feel his pulse speeding up and it made Jisung’s head spin. “Not exactly what I asked, but I’ll take it.”

Taking off Minho’s tie completely, Jisung wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it. He fiddled with the length of fabric in his hands for a moment, conscious of Minho’s eyes on him before he was taking Jisung’s hands again. Minho worked the tie out of Jisung’s grip until it finally fell to the floor, forgotten, and he guided Jisung’s fingertips back up to the collar of his shirt, to rest around the top buttons.

Their gazes met briefly, and it took Jisung’s breath away.

He fumbled with the top button, then the next one, then the next one, hands trembling as slowly, slowly the fabric gave way to gradually expose more of Minho’s chest. Honestly, Jisung had no idea what he was doing, or how they’d ended up in this situation. It felt kind of like a dream - he’d definitely had ones like this before - or maybe like some kind of horrible prank. But Jisung couldn’t bring himself to worry about that, not when Minho’s hands came to rest on his hips, holding him close, holding him steady. Not when Minho, words breathy and uneven, whispered  _ don’t worry, don’t think, don’t stop. _

Jisung paused, having undone around half of the buttons on Minho’s shirt. Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, he slipped his fingertips gingerly under the fabric, keeping a close watch on Minho’s expression as he did so. Lightly, featherlight, he ran his fingertips along Minho’s skin, inch by devastating inch.

_ Ah- Jisung. _ It was too much, way too much, a desperate tension building in the air and making it hard to breathe as Jisung stroked lightly over Minho’s collarbone, up over his Adam's apple.

He moved his hands away, then, shuddering a little at the whine of complaint it drew from Minho before he made to push the older boy’s blazer off over his shoulders.

As Minho shrugged the garment off, he finally leaned forwards to press his mouth to Jisung’s, and the moment the blazer hit the floor his hands were on Jisung’s hips once again, pulling him close with more insistence than Jisung was ready for.

The  _ bang _ as the two of them stumbled back against the door burst the tension like a balloon, and it was like the air around them was burning, melting on their skin and into Jisung’s lungs as they kissed, over and over again.

Minho kissed exactly how Jisung had always imagined he would, pretty much. Perhaps a little more messy, a little more urgent, fingertips pressing firmly into Jisung’s hips and holding him steady while the rest of his body shook just a little under Jisung’s touch. Jisung made short work of the rest of the buttons, untucking the older boy’s shirt and pushing it back over his shoulders too.

Minho grumbled, having to take his hands off Jisung again, but it didn’t last long. Before Jisung could reconnect their lips, Minho’s hands had slipped under the hem of his t-shirt, fingertips dancing questioningly over Jisung’s stomach and maybe, just maybe, it was the hottest thing Jisung had ever experienced in his entire life.

“Can I…?” Jisung could hardly hear him over the sound of his own heartbeat roaring in his ears, but he could hear, just barely. There was a slight growl in Minho’s voice that he’d  _ never _ heard before, and Jisung’s body was reacting on its own by that point.

“Fuck. Obviously.” And he was laughing, they were both laughing as Minho all but yanked the t-shirt off, tossing it across the room before running his hands over Jisung’s bare shoulders, over his chest, his back, anywhere he could reach.

The sound of fabric hitting Minho’s bedroom floor as their mouths met needily, Minho’s tongue working against Jisung’s and their chests pressed together, pulses pounding in unison, was absolutely  _ beyond _ erotic.

  
  


By the time Jisung’s hands slipped down to Minho’s belt, he was shaking so hard that Minho had to help him, undoing the buckle with way more contact than necessary as nervous, clumsy hands fumbled together. Jisung still wasn’t completely sure what he was doing, or how they’d gotten here, but God, he wanted Minho so badly, and from what he could tell - from Minho panting his name breathlessly against his lips, from clues under his touch as they’d removed Minho’s belt - the older boy wanted him just as much.

“Jisung. ‘Sungie. You good?” Minho whispered, running his fingers through Jisung’s hair as he slipped his leg between Jisung’s thighs. The sound that left Jisung’s mouth next wasn’t one he was proud of, but Minho seemed to approve, at least, sealing Jisung’s mouth with his own as if to capture it, save it for himself so he would never forget it. They’d been standing for too long, it was too much, Jisung’s legs were starting to shake - even more so as Minho continued. “Want you. Want you so much.”

“Mm…” A shiver up his spine. “Always wanted you, hyung.”

Minho didn’t rush him, didn’t push, but he did tease between Jisung’s thighs just a little, the tiniest amount of friction still enough to send Jisung’s mind spinning once again. Even if they were on the same page - and something in the air, something invisible and unspoken wrapping itself around Jisung’s heart and squeezing tightly in his chest had him convinced that they were - this was still new. Still uncharted territory for both of them. “Then what’s taken us so fucking long?”

Jisung chuckled quietly, but couldn’t hide the little jolt that ran through him when Minho cursed in  _ that _ voice, the new voice, the one laced with unabashed want. “We’re stupid. I’m stupid. I was scared.”

Minho’s movements paused, then. Still playing with Jisung’s hair, he pressed a light kiss to the younger boy’s earlobe, keeping his voice low. “Are you still scared?”

“Only-” he gasped softly as Minho shifted against him, “only of falling over.”

A murmur of  _ come here _ , and Minho was leading Jisung away from the door and over to the bed, instead. Something had shifted, Minho’s tone losing its commanding edge and he gently, almost sweetly took the lead as he pulled Jisung on top of him to kiss him again.

It was no longer frantic, but definitely no less intimate, Jisung straddling Minho’s hips and knowing for  _ absolutely certain _ that Minho wanted him as badly as he wanted Minho. They didn’t end up taking anything else off, in the end, and it honestly made Jisung a little dizzy with anticipation, knowing something was being left for a potential  _ next time _ .

They were occupied enough as they were, with what they already had, capturing the earlier spark and stoking the slow-burning embers that were building, building, deep in Jisung’s very core. Minho had found a patch of skin at the base of Jisung’s neck that was oh, oh so sensitive, and it was all Jisung could do not to fall apart at the seams as Minho did his utmost to try and get Jisung to do exactly that, nipping and sucking experimentally.

“H-hyung-” there was no denying that what was coming out of Jisung’s mouth in that moment was a  _ whine _ . “Nn-  _ ah... _ ” All he could do was press close, squeezing his eyes shut and tangling his hands in Minho’s hair. Oh, Minho was leaving a mark, for sure, and Jisung loved that. Jisung’s head swam with the thought of returning the favour, of exploring a little more with his hands and mouth and leaving marks of his own anywhere and everywhere Minho would let him.

They had time, much to Jisung’s delight, to explore as much as they wanted, to slow down a little bit. Slow and steady, but never stopping, oh no. Jisung would die if Minho stopped.

And they didn’t stop, Minho guiding Jisung’s hips and setting the pace, the two of them moving together. Gasps, giggles and muffled moans devolved gradually into panting, into slurred whispers against each other’s mouths.  _ Please. More. Like that, just like that. _

It really was a wonder that they’d taken so long.

  
  


“Jisung,” Minho whispered later, when the embers had long since petered out and the two of them quietly held each other on Minho’s bed, not wanting to do anything but keeping an ear out in case either of Minho’s parents got home. “We’re still getting a place together once you graduate, right? If you still like me.”

Jisung nuzzled into Minho’s chest, at that, toying with the older boy’s fingers. “You’re really asking if I’ll still like you  _ now?”  _ He laughed when he felt Minho nod. “It’s the plan, yeah.”

“I’m really looking forward to it being just the two of us.”

It was Minho’s turn to laugh as Jisung shuddered involuntarily in his arms.

They spent a long time after that just whispering, whispering about nonsense as they always did. About apartments and houseplants and messages left in fridge magnets.

_ Will I have to bring the uniform? _ Minho had asked with a chuckle, and as he desperately insisted  _ it wasn’t the uniform hyung you’re just really hot and I wasn’t prepared _ , Jisung felt a renewed motivation to graduate well. There was a lot on the line, all of a sudden, and if the thought of having Minho close to him like this all the time, all to himself wasn’t enough to light a fire in him, nothing would be.

As long as he didn’t get distracted, anyway.

Jisung let his eyes slip closed as Minho’s lips once again attached to his neck, and in the back of his mind, he made a note that they were going to need to set some ground rules.

  
  
(Two years later, on the door of the refrigerator, a set of multicoloured plastic magnets spelled out  _ I love you _ .)

**Author's Note:**

> *gently fans*
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/jicasso_future) \+ [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/futurelikejicasso)


End file.
